When Darkness Dreams Of Light
by LotornoMiko
Summary: The Valkyrie was wrong, and never was it more apparent then when the realm of darkness collided with a world where Gods and magic no longer existed. The Cycle of Rebirth continues, even as memories of the past are stripped away, paving the way for new chances or a return of old mistakes. A Lezard Lenneth Pairing fic.
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer Time! I do not own Valkyrie Profile, nor do I own the characters of Lezard and Lenneth. That honor belongs to Tri Ace and Square Enix. However, any characters not known to the Valkyrie Profile games, I do own as they are my own creation. I also make no money off of this story. This is done purely for entertainment purposes.

-Michelle

The woman before him was beautiful, with her long hair of streaming gold, and eyes that shone just as bright. Her ivory pale skin was unblemished from what he could see, and indeed there was much of it on display. From the low cut cleavage of the form fitting bodice of her armor, to the short cut skirt of her dress. Her long legs were covered by dark boots, but that couldn't detract from the fact that with every movement, her dress teased him with flashes of just what exactly lay under the skirt.

She looked and dressed like a vision out of fantasies, with pleasing curves and a bosom that was almost too large for his tastes. And yet it was not desire he felt upon looking at her, no longing in his heart, no arousal stirring his body. She was simply unable to move him that way, despair and anger like he had never known filling Lezard.

He didn't know why the sight of this woman always made him so angry. Or why an uncontrollable, murderous rage filled him. It was not enough to swallow up the despair he also felt, something inside him breaking as he screamed.

That soundless cry was followed by action, Lezard taking pained steps forward. Crossing the short distance to the woman, who barely flinched when he thrust his weapon into her stomach. The weapon, a double bladed lance the likes of which he had only ever seen in his dreams, became the only thing supporting him upright as the last of his strength failed him. Lezard dropped to one knee, still angry, still despairing, but also incredibly tired. It was all he could do not to pant, and Lezard knew then he was dying.

The woman held his gaze with her own the entire time, the gold merciless and unfeeling. Judging him as though she was capable of staring right into his soul, making Lezard involuntarily shiver in response. The rage was still there, Lezard wanting to lash out at her for looking down at him. But he could no longer muster the strength to do anything but hang on, and even now his grip was weakening.

Her lips parted, but just like with everything else, no sound came to him. Her look turned even colder, her expression as stern as he could ever recall seeing. He instinctively knew she was making a decision, proclaiming punishment for whatever wrong doings he had committed against her. Lezard expected to feel the anger in him surge stronger, but instead calm overtook him. He was completely at peace as he smiled at the golden haired woman, watching as his vision blurred and his hand let go of the lance. Immediately he crashed into the floor, and that is when Lezard sat up for real.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, to the point Lezard actually lifted a clammy hand to press over it. The rumble of thunder didn't help calm his frantic pulse, Lezard blinking repeatedly, waiting for his vision to clear. The remnants of the dream still lingered strongly in his mind, the walls of his bedroom looking very much like blue and gray crystal, rather than the dark granite it actually was.

It was a relief when the room turned back to normal, though Lezard didn't let out so much as a sigh. That would have been too strong a weakness, and would have invited questions from the woman who lay asleep besides him. He didn't dare look her way, not wanting to know if her eyes were open, not wanting to have to kill her if she had witnessed his moment of fright.

Lezard didn't like the frightened feelings that were stirred up by the dream. Anymore then he liked the sense of loss he experienced in the wake of that nightmare. It was a nightmare that kept repeating, Lezard having had it over a dozen times now. He still didn't know what it meant, or what the golden haired woman had been telling him so sternly. He could never hear the words spoken, neither hers nor his, and not even the sound of the lance slamming into her body, could break the barrier of silence that was cast over the dream.

He didn't know if what she said was even important, though there had to be SOME meaning behind a dream that kept repeating. It couldn't be pure coincidence that he dreamt of a woman he hated with every inch of his soul. A woman that so infuriated him, it hadn't even been a delight to deal a killing blow, because Lezard knew instinctively it didn't change anything. Even if that woman died, the sense of loss would remain. Something important had been taken from him, but he didn't even know what that could be!

The dream disturbed him, in a way few if any things still could. And in a world of perpetual darkness, there was plenty more to be feared, than some figment woman. At any time, in any place, someone stronger could come along. Someone with enough power to topple Lezard from the secure kingdom he had fought so hard for.

Lezard couldn't stop the shiver that worked it's way through him. Was the dream a warning? Was the woman the one who would come and take from him all he had? It would certainly explain the anger, though Lezard would be damned before he allowed himself to live long enough to suffer the loss. He would be no one's plaything, especially not some cold eyed bitch's! Not now, not ever again.

Refusing to let the memories of centuries past surface, Lezard reached for his glasses. Wire framed, and gilded thankfully with silver not gold, he put them on. The details of the room became clearer, the stolen furniture making a mismatched elegance out of the granite surroundings. Pieces from the world of light, stolen slowly over time, and at a great expenditure of energy from Lezard.

He would have liked for everything in the room to match, but he hadn't been able to choose. It simply cost too much energy to bring over more than one object at a time, no matter the size. Nor could he cast the spell too often, finding the energy drain too dangerous to allow to happen too often. Not when he needed his magic to protect himself from those who threatened his kingdom and his freedom.

Fortunately for Lezard, his reputation, which had been built up over hundreds of years, was more than enough to keep away all but the most serious of challengers. Those few determined enough to try and take from him all he had, well they didn't come around that often. Certainly it gave him a small window of time to try the spell, to occasionally bring over something that caught his fancy from the other world. But it was happening less and less, his desires becoming less focused on the objects there, and more on the people that owned them.

The people of the other world, they fascinated him. They were so creative, so inventive and bright. They not only held untold luxury and wealth in their hands, they had made things the people of the dark world couldn't even imagine. Lezard knew there were boxes on wheels, that moved not by the push and pull of other creatures, but traveled on it's own power. Cars instead of carriages, and even great long ones that were capable of flying through the air.

They had cities the likes of which the dark world denizens could only dream of. With multiple towering spirals that reached taller than even his castle's highest turret. Thousands upon thousands crowded into those cities, and there was room for all to live, to work, to play. And that was another foreign concept, the idea of so many having the time set aside to relax, to not be scurrying to some other stronger person's whims. Few if any in the dark world had the luxury of free time, or there was almost always someone to fight with, someone to bully and beat you, order you around or worse.

Perhaps that is why in the world of light, they were able to create so many marvels. They didn't have to live constantly watching over their backs, didn't have to worry about things being taken from them, broken or turned against them. Certainly they didn't have to worry about the abuse, about the beatings and molestations, the killings and starvation that the people of the dark world lived with daily.

The problems the people of the world of light dealt with, seemed so small, so inconsequential compared to the lives the dark world dwellers led. But the worlds weren't complete opposites. There did exist an ugly side to the world of light. Bad things did happen, and sometimes they happened to good people. But unlike the dark world, there was a system of checks and balances in place. A system made to punish those who did bad. Lezard couldn't say he understood it, anymore than he understood the light worlders' concept of right and wrong. In Lezard's world, might made everything right, their system a dog eat dog world of dominance and submission.

In Lezard's world, there was no true good or evil, no right or wrong. No crime, no sins, no laws save one. The way of things was never questioned, and indeed Lezard hadn't bothered to wonder why things were like this in the world of dark either. That was before he had learned how to see into the world of light by entering into the people of that realm's dreams.

It had been pure chance, more an accident than any direct action taken by Lezard. The barrier that existed between the two worlds was strong, almost impossible to pierce, let alone cross. And yet, he had found a way, though it wasn't without it's own limitations. He could see into the other world, speak with the people, even affect them through the dreams. But never had Lezard been able to cross over into that other world, the way blocked. At best he could merely reach inside for a few seconds, his hands grasping hold of the object he desired.

He had become adept at taking things from the other world, the objects gaining increases in size and weight. Until he had whole rooms full of stolen treasures, the items far better crafted than anything the dark worlders were capable of making. Not only did his theft make him among the richest in the dark world, but among the most envied. His power was as coveted as feared, the dark world dwellers wanting to be able to what he did. Wanting a way to make things appear seemingly out of thin air for few if any believed in the existence of another world.

The world of light would be the ultimate temptation to the beings of darkness. They would want that land, those things, even those people for themselves. And just like they did with everything else, they would seek to corrupt, to tarnish, even to destroy those beings of purity.

Lezard himself could understand those needs, though his were different. He longed for that world, for the chances he saw there. Lezard would have loved to escape to that world, to leave behind the darkness, and the fear, the constant paranoia and the ever pressing need to always be on watch. He wanted to be part of the light, and yet instinctively knew he wasn't good enough for that world. He was too dirty himself, his hands tainted with what the light worlder's would call evil. But in the realm of darkness, what was bad, was more necessity than evil, their way of life.

And just as it was their way of life to covet the things of others, Lezard continued to desire the world of light. The things there, the opportunities...and even the women there. Women who were nothing like the females of this world, untainted beings whose inner purity made them all beautiful in their own special ways.

That beauty calls to him, Lezard having dallied with hundreds of different women in their dreams over the years. Some willing, some not, some indecisive enough to allow him to seduce their surrender. The dreams let him feel some modicum of satisfaction, some lingering feelings of pleasure. The dream lovings make him feel a thousand times better than any of the sex he has had with the women of his realm.

He's almost an addict to the dreams. He's certainly one to the women, to ONE woman in particular. He doesn't even know how he could have stumbling upon her dreams, doesn't understand how lucky he's truly been to find her. But she is the one thing that calms him, that makes him feel one step closer to being whole. And on nights like tonight, when the nightmare is fresh in his mind, it is her face he remembers, her body he craves.

It doesn't matter to Lezard that the nightmare started around the time he first found the woman. Nor does he care that it seems to grow in power and frequency. He just wants what he wants. Her, now, here in his bed, though he'll have to settle for the dreamscape instead.

With an almost imperceptible nod to himself, he grabs the hair of the female that lays asleep in his bed. She wakes instantly, flashing a gaze that is more angry than frightened. It seems Lusillia has become far too secure, assuming she has both status and safety earned from being his most constant bed companion. The fact that she doesn't cower, implies that Lusillia thinks she's safe from any violence Lezard might do, the man tightening his grip on her hair. She hisses in reply, revealing the slightly pointed canines of broken fangs. Lezard growls back at her, angry at her display of resistance. Not even her whimper can calm him, Lezard painfully jerking on her hair. She is dragged out of the bed by it, Lezard stalking nude towards the bedroom's single exit.

Lusillia screeches in rage when she hits the wall across from him. Her eyes are narrowed into a glare, proving she doesn't take seriously her eviction from his bed. Lezard knows he will have to teach her a lesson, take some other females to bed for the foreseeable future, in order to make Lusillia reevaluate her place in the hierarchy of his kingdom. For now, he'll just leave her to stew out in the hall, Lezard slamming the doors shut behind him.

Lusillia knows enough not to pound on those doors, or scream any further. A loud tantrum of noise would only invite others to investigate, bringing danger to the female who is naked and weak, and considered pretty by dark world's standards.

Truthfully Lezard doesn't care what happens to Lusillia now that she is out of his sight. He can feel some of his anger easing, though it won't completely go away until he enters the dreamscape. It is with that anticipation coloring his thoughts, that he hurries back to the bed. His body starts to prep itself in arousal, just the thought of seeing HER making his blood burn. He's already half hard when he lays back against his bed's pillows, but he makes no move to touch his erection.

Instead he concentrates, his lips moving, though the spell is silent. His eyes close, Lezard forcing himself to relax so that he doesn't tense up at every sound. His breathing works to even out, then slow, Lezard slipping into that half state of existing. It's not a true sleep he enters, Lezard feeling as though his soul is breaking the connection with his body. Traveling through the barrier, to enter into the other world. Searching, searching, wanting, needing desperately for her to already be asleep.

His lips twist in a victorious smile, as he finds his quarry already in the dreamscape. Remnants of her dream lingered, a dream he easily shattered with the force of his own thoughts. The beautiful blue sky of the world of light, is instantly blanketed by darkness, with not even stars to break up the black. That darkness leeched the color out of her surroundings, casting shadows everywhere. The woman seemed to know what the sudden onset of darkness meant, her body stiffening in apprehension.

Before she could turn to him, he was behind her. Pressing against the only warmth in an otherwise cold land. And just as she was hot, the woman was also the only color truly left for he had cloaked himself in the same shadows that were over the land.

Shivering, she tried to pull away as his lips caressed her ear. His arm caught hold of her across the chest, pinning her against him. His free hand touched her hair, that marvelous silver blue that flowed impossibly long down past her knees. Lezard knew without her turning, that her eyes would be a beautiful blue color, a shade not often seen in the world of darkness.

He need to see her, to look into those dazzling blue eyes. To be warmed by the beauty of her, by her glow of purity that refused to be tarnished no matter what he attempted to do to her.

That need would not be denied, Lezard using his hands to force his silver haired beauty to face him. Her eyes were frightened, her full lips parting on a gasp. If she squinted, she might just be able to make out some hazy details about him, but for now he kept the shadows around him.

"Beautiful." He whispered, and felt the shiver go through her. He knew she liked his voice, knew that other women from the world of light, had also liked the sound of it. But this woman seemed even more affected by it, actually trembling from hearing it.

"The most beautiful I have ever seen." Lezard said, caressing the backs of his fingers across one silk soft cheek. He liked how she felt, but more than that, he liked the fact that she didn't put on airs. Most men and women when they entered the dreamscape, projected their idealizes selves. Fat became thin, small became tall, flat gained pleasing curves. Even attributes like hair color changed, but this woman was confidant enough in herself, to appear as how she did in the waking world. That pleased Lezard immensely, the man not wanting to embrace a lie. And once he had discovered how to break the illusions people cast on themselves in dreams, he had never allowed anyone to appear as anything other than themselves before him.

But he hadn't been interested in visiting any others, not since he had stumbled upon this beauty. This woman whose face haunted him even when he was awake, to the point he visited the dreamscape more and more. It, SHE, was becoming an obsession, he wanted to be with her all the time. But so far it had proved impossible to drag a living being over to the dark world. Not that he would ever stop trying. So long as he lived and breathed, Lezard would always search for a way, a way to break past the barrier in a more tangible way than dreams.

But for now, the dreams were pleasant, diversions from the stress and anxiety of the dark world, and the frustrations the barrier's limits imposed on him. And for Lezard, there was nothing better than being with her, with his beauty, his Lenneth.

To Be Continued Of Course...

Hmmm...I'm...sorta on the wall...if I should have kept going, or if this was the perfect spot to end the chapter. Next chapter is supposed to be a Lenneth point of view by the way.

Now this is where I ramble on and on. Some of you may know this already. Back when I first was gonna write The Stolen, I intended for it to be a very different story. Lezard was gonna be a much darker character, more aggressive. But...because of...things, I sorta chickened out. In the last year or two I took a 'The hell with it/fuck it" attitude. The, "I'm gonna write what I want to write, and if it's dark fic, then so be it. Screw the haters!" Doesn't mean all fic will be dark of course...but some will.

I'm still gonna try and work on The Stolen. If only to make my friend Huntress happy since she really likes that story. This story (Which is untitled as of this writing.) isn't the stolen rewritten. Not truly. There's some similar aspects, in that they both had dreamscape meetings. But I got a lot of different ideas for this one...and one of them is that the reincarnated Lenneth is from a modern time!

Also, the whole thing about the Valkyrie being wrong...well it applies to what the Valkyrie said Lezard's punishment would be. That he would be removed from the cycle of life/rebirth. Being lazy about looking it up right now. What's really bad is I watched that scene just before I started writing chapter one...and I'm already hazing on how she said it. But what she was saying was that he would have no chance to be reborn...but that's probably such a spoiler for this story...:O

Lenneth POV for next chapter, but I also got to decide how much I want to detail Lenneth's everyday life in Modern times...there's some things I got to make clear...I sorta do and don't want to make a bunch of chapters about it. I like the thought of Lezard getting more frantic as he tries to figure out how to get pass the barrier as a certain event draws near...you'll have to wait for the Lenneth POV to possibly find out what that certain event is! XD

-Michelle


	2. Chapter 2

Lenneth knows exactly when she becomes aware of the dream, the moment when she wakes just enough to be conscious of everything that happens, but remains powerless to truly stop it, stop HIM. It is when the good dream starts dying, breaking apart as the shadows slide over and swallow up all remnants, leaving her shivering in darkness. Surrounded by it, Lenneth can no longer recall what the dream had originally been about, nor does she particular care to try at remembering. Not when the fear and apprehension is upon her, so thick she practically chokes on it.

Her entire body stiffens, paralyzing her on the spot. Lenneth knows he is coming, knows it would be pointless to even try to run. Rooted to the spot, Lenneth desperately tries to awaken completely, as if that could somehow spare her the nightmare. But she's never been able to escape that way, never been able to spring free of the trap of her dreaming mind.

Caught, Lenneth wonders. Will this be the time that the darkness finally swallows her whole? Will it's inky tendrils climb up her body, eating up her screams, her very existence, leaving nothing behind? Just the thought terrifies her, Lenneth again trying to wake. She doesn't, but she gains enough freedom to move. The freedom to turn and face that which is coming, though he's already there. Pressing into her from behind, letting her feel the solid lines of his body as an arm winds itself around her, pinning her in place.

He leeches the warmth from her body, Lenneth shaking more. The shivering almost rattles her teeth, as cool lips caress over her ear. A hand strokes fingers through her long hair, the petting doing nothing to soothe Lenneth. She wants the dream to stop, and knows it won't end this quickly. It never does, once Lenneth is caught in it's grip, the woman an unwilling prisoner to her own mind.

And to the being that presses against her, his hands now turning her. Forcing her to reluctantly face him. The shadows cling even to him, Lenneth unable to make out any details. It doesn't matter. She's certain she knows who this shadowy figure represents, certain it's her own fears and uncertainties that have manifested in her dreams to torment her so.

Lenneth thinks she knows the reason behind the nightmares, though she hasn't a clue as to how to stop them. It's just proof of her helplessness, her inability to stop him, here or in real life. She hates that she's helpless, that even in sleep she cannot escape the reality of her situation.

It doesn't matter that the shadowy figure of her tormentor compliments her. Tells her that he is pleased by her beauty. She feels a line of ice where his fingers caress her cheek, Lenneth gasping. Trying not to choke in the act of breathing as he praises her.

"Beautiful."

She can't see his eyes, can't make out any details of his face. Somehow it would be worse if she could, Lenneth not wanting to see his leer, or the smug smirk she knows he almost always wears.

"The most beautiful I have ever seen." His voice makes her react, the velvet tones twisting something inside her. The voice doesn't fit in with the rest of him, doesn't sound anything like he should. It's the one piece that doesn't match, and if Lenneth wasn't so scared, she might have been able to figure out why.

Has his skin gotten warmer, or is she now just that cold? Lenneth doesn't know, feeling it as his stroking fingers caress down to her chin, grip firming. Her head is tilted back, the dark figure already so close, now even closer so that their breaths mingled. Lenneth knew then he intended to kiss her, and is dismayed by the whimper she lets out.

"Don't."

No real reaction from him, the man not even pausing. Pressing his lips against hers, eating up the protesting sounds she makes. It doesn't matter who is hot, who is cold, the kiss sharing enough heat to warm them both. The darkness wraps around her, arms trapping her against him. She can't see anything, she's being overwhelem ed by the dark. Staring into it, and knowing something, someone, stares back at her.

"Please!" She manages to break free long enough to issue a plea. It doesn't have any effect, the darkness unmoved, pressing more firmly against her. Lenneth tries to back away, growing more frantic by the moment. The darkness moves with her, following her down as she trips and falls. Arms are on either side of her, a weight resting on Lenneth as she struggles. Pushing at the darkness, feeling a man's chest underneath her palms, Lenneth gearing up to scream.

He says nothing, taking hold of one of her hands. She's already flinching, expecting him to break her fingers. It leaves her unprepared for the kisses placed so carefully across her knuckles, the gentle action so at war with her expectations. Lenneth blinks, then stares, peering at the dark figure, trying to see him, trying to gain a sense of his true intentions.

Her fingers continue to get kisses, another hand landing on her leg. The unease surges stronger in her, Lenneth finding her dress is being drawn up.

"Cold!" She manages to utter, trying to shy away from his hand. She can't see anything of him, and yet she knows he is grinning. Smirking as he whispers about how he'll warm her up. It's more threat than anything, Lenneth panicking completely. Thrashing about, trying to lash out with her free hand as she attempts to knock him off her. Screaming as she is held down, the darkness closing in on her, kissing her once more.

Lenneth continues to scream, into the kiss, and right into being shaken awake. Two sets of concerned eyes stare down at her, the smaller blonde's hand still on Lenneth's shoulder. Lenneth has to blink several times, gagging as she realizes the dream has abruptly ended. She is safe, in her own bed, with her two sisters hovering concerned besides her.

"Lenneth, it's okay, it's okay." Repeats her younger sister Silmeria, the pale blonde attempting to pull Lenneth into a hug. It's too soon for any kind of embrace, Lenneth still caught in the terrifying remembrance of being trapped by the dark figure's arms. Doing more than just flinching, Lenneth jerks herself away from Silmeria's hands. Her sister is upset, Silmeria trying and failing to hide a frown, as Lenneth chooses instead to hug a pillow to her.

She's not the only one frowning. The dark gaze of their elder sister Hrist is entirely fixed on Lenneth's ashen face. Little detail will get by the dark haired beauty, Hrist noting the shaking, and the wide eyed fright in Lenneth's eyes. That piercing scrutiny makes Lenneth shift in bed, trying to relax the white knuckle grip she has on the pillow as she attempts to calm down. But her heart still flutters, it's beat erratic. The room almost seems to spin, Lenneth trying to keep her breathing even.

"I'm fine." She manages to say, her voice lacking so much as a quiver of fear to it. She can't yet force a smile, Lenneth trying not to flinch as she meets the gaze of first Hrist, then Silmeria. "It was just a dream...a nightmare."

"Doesn't sound like it was just a dream." Hrist's tone is suspicious, her gaze narrow as she stares at Lenneth. "Not with the way you screamed."

"But what else could it be?" Lenneth counters with a question. It stumps Hrist, the woman huffing angrily. "Really...it was nothing...just my...overworked mind being silly."

Hrist was unconvinced, exchanging a look with Silmeria. Lenneth could instantly tell they weren't quite ready to drop this, and began bracing herself to defend against their concerns. To lie and assure them that there was nothing to worry about, when every last inch of her ached to tell them the truth. But she wasn't free to do that, and if Trevor had his way, it wouldn't be the only freedom taken from her.

She glanced down at her hand, at the garishly expensive ring on her finger. It was an engagement ring to die for, an outlandish design of diamonds that had each cost a small fortune. It's large and obtrusive, and an unwanted weight on her finger. And it represented only one of the chains that had been locked around her.

Others would come, Trevor not satisfied until he had staked a claim on every part of her. Trying to own her as thoroughly as one person could own another person though Lenneth would never allow him to have her heart. To not love Trevor was perhaps the only victory she could take in a situation that was otherwise unwinnable to her, and even that rang hollow. Not when Trevor was more than satisfied with all he already had, all he would get once they were officially joined in marriage.

Lenneth couldn't quite stop the shudder that went through her, the distaste that went hand and hand with the knowledge that one day all too soon, she'd be enduring more than just Trevor's ring on her finger. It was almost violent, her reaction, the way her body itself seemed to protest the thought of ending up in Trevor's bed. But a sexless marriage had never been part of the bargain, Trevor lusting too strongly to let Lenneth get away from experiencing him entirely.

Her one saving grace, fleeting though it was, had been Trevor's agreement to wait until after they had been officially wed. He hadn't wanted to concede to that, but had had enough sense to recognize Lenneth had been pushed to her limits. That despite the threats, the ruinous scandal he promised for her family, Trevor had understood that even his blackmail wasn't enough to keep Lenneth from balking in that one regard.

She had been spared, albeit it was only a temporary salvation. And one that did little to bring Lenneth any true relief. Not when she was anticipating how much further he would degrade her, how Trevor would enjoy her humiliation, heaping abuse after abuse upon her being. It was these thoughts, these worries, these absolute certainties, that tormented Lenneth hourly. Just as she was unable to escape him, or the future he was laying out for them both, Lenneth couldn't stop her mind from going down torturous routes. It was no wonder that even when she slept, the dreams-nightmares, came to haunt her.

The dreams that had started shortly after Trevor had revealed his devilish intentions, after he had laid out his plans and the blackmail that would force Lenneth to consent to such an unhappy future. Her anger, her fear, her very helplessness, manifesting itself in those dreams, allowing Trevor to stalk her even there. It didn't matter that the dreams never allowed her to see his face, that he kept himself cloaked in shadows. She knew it was Trevor, her stomach curling, loathing filling her at just his approach. She felt just as vulnerable to Trevor there, as she did in reality, and Lenneth would continue to feel that way so long as she had no choice left to her.

Lenneth had been quiet too long, sitting lost in thought. Those thoughts she couldn't help to reacting, her shaking frame and the revulsion that was apparent in her face, drawing more of her sisters' concern. Lenneth tried to push away her own upset, tried to school her features to show a calm she did not feel. She couldn't, wouldn't allow her sisters to be burdened by her, or by Trevor's blackmail. Lenneth would shoulder the burden alone, would keep it and the scandal it could cause, from touching her sisters and their own lives.

"I'm fine, really." Lenneth stated out loud. She managed a weak smile, earning an uncertain one back from her younger sister, Silmeria. As far as she and Hrist were concerned, Lenneth and Trevor were a love match, a couple bound for eternal happiness together. They would be horrified to learn the truth, to know how much Lenneth despised her soon to be husband. Worse yet to allow them to be touched directly by his blackmail, to allow him to ruin their lives with threats and demands, with the knowledge of what their father had done, the crimes he had committed and the cover ups he had forced their mother to take part in.

No, Lenneth thought, gazing at her two sisters. They would never know, never be filled with the shame and disappointments, and the uncertainties a future soured by blackmail could bring. Her sisters would continue to lead almost blessed lives, Silmeria going on to college to get her art degree, Hrist continuing her efforts to one day be placed as a judge on the Supreme Court. Lenneth and Trevor would continue to run the family's business, the business that had made them their fortune, and had secretly hurt so many.

It was a dirty legacy their father had given them, their money, their home, their lives tainted by it. It continued to this day, Trevor ready to take up the reigns, continue the crimes, and take from it the fame and fortune of the family's good name. Most of all, he coveted the power that came with being a Valkyrie, that name getting him into doors that would otherwise remain closed. The Valkyrie family had backed many, had seen senators become presidents, had bought company positions for friends. Had kept dirty government officials in their back pockets, had favors owed to them all across the continental states of America. The Valkyrie's power and influence even extended across the world, people having clamored to do business with Lenneth's father.

A man like Trevor, an unwanted, unacknowledged bastard son of an all too affluent family, should have never stood a chance at gaining entry into Lenneth's family. He still wouldn't, if her father had been alive. Osman Valkyrie had known how to rid himself of trouble, and Trevor would have been no real threat, given the connections and power her father had had.

But he was gone. So was her mother. Leaving it up to Lenneth to deal, to dirty herself in the only way she was prepared too. She couldn't stomach the idea of killing, even a fiend like Trevor! And she couldn't go to the cops, not without ruining her sisters' lives. Besides, she had no proof. No proof of Trevor's wrong doings, while he had everything set up to reveal and blame her family for her father's foul deeds.

Trevor had her right where he wanted. He'd get her family's name for himself, the business, the fortune, the connections and power. He'd even get a wife he lusted after, one he could control and force to do the downright depraved. Trevor would have everything, and the only comfort Lenneth would take was her sisters' continued, blissful ignorance.

It was worth. Lenneth thought, gazing first at Hrist, then at Silmeria. She'd do anything for her sisters' well being and happiness. Even make a deal with the devil himself.

To Be Continued...

Long story short, wrote about the first 9KB months ago. Then got hit by doubts big time, and ended up hating on what I had. Pretty much let it paralyze me to inaction. Funny enough, found myself in a VP mood since yesterday, to the point it's distracting me from working on my other fandom. So reread chapter one, and the work in progress two...what a difference some months make. I no longer hated what I had, and was able to finish two! Hurrah! Let's hope I can work the same magic to write a new chapter or few of OSVP too...

About the fiancee...right now the name Trevor is just a placeholder, though it could eventually become the real name if I can't think of anything better. I was also drawing a blank on what to name the father...X_X

But yeah...place holder name that may or may not become the permanent name. Doesn't help I have these plot bunnies that make me want to name the fiancee after a certain trickster God. But I'm hesitant to listen to these particular plot bunnies. X_X

-Michelle

Alpha Huntress, thanks! Makes me feel better about a title I wasn't entirely sure about. :) Oh my, I am blushing at your praising words. Thank you so much! I must adore you now. :D Hope Lenenth's side of the story proves just as interesting and gripping as Lezard's side was to you. :)


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